At the back of the house, across a cobbled courtyard, an old stable block had been converted into garages. They loaded the suitcases into Kit’s battered – and spectacularly untidy – slate-grey Peugeot.

‘He thinks I’m a gold-digger,’ Liza marvelled.

‘We could really gee him up,’ said Kit, slamming the boot shut, ‘we could tell him you’re pregnant.’’I’m not.’

Kit’s yellow-gold eyes glittered like a cat’s in the dusty sunlight. He kissed Liza’s warm mouth, then her neck, then her bare shoulder.

‘You’re not yet.’

Oh my God, thought Liza dazedly, marvelling at the effect he was having on her body. How does he do it? How can this be happening to me?

But when Kit drove the Peugeot around the side of the house, Leo Berenger was still standing there next to the Bentley, his arms folded across his barrel of a chest, his disapproving gaze fixed on Liza.

Kit lowered his window and said cheerfully, ‘See? It’s my body she’s after, not your cash. Bye, Dad.’

His father didn’t reply.

Making sure she spoke loudly enough to be heard, Liza said as they drove past, ‘Is he really your father? Sure you weren’t switched at birth?’

Chapter 29

It was one of Eddie’s visiting days. Pru picked him up at five o’clock that afternoon and gave Arthur’s ears a friendly scratch when he scrambled on to the passenger seat ahead of Eddie.

Arthur had formed a passionate attachment to Anita, the golden retriever belonging to the caretaker at Elmlea nursing home; for the past couple of weeks he had taken to yelping with excitement every time he spotted Pru, and hurling himself into the car like a frantic commuter hailing a taxi.

‘It’s love,’ said Eddie with a grin, shoving Arthur through to the back before he drooled over Pru’s pale-green shirt.

Pru was getting used to Arthur now. As dogs went, he was okay. How he’d ever managed to get himself a girlfriend though, was beyond her. Arthur had frightfully bad breath.

‘Down,’ Eddie commanded as the dog’s paws crept over the back of his seat. A long pink tongue lolled wetly, inches from his shoulder. For a mad moment he wished it could be Pru’s tongue.

Pru, extremely glad it wasn’t her shoulder, said, ‘You’re supposed to play it cool, Arthur. Look like you don’t give a damn.’

But with dogs there was no need for all that. The second Arthur spotted the object of his desire, he would howl with joy and scrabble in desperation at the car door until he was let out. Anita, in her turn, would leap up, eyes alight with pleasure, and race across the grass towards him, Hollywood style.

None of your complicated human stuff, Eddie thought, all this hiding your true feelings, preserving your pride and generally falling about.

‘Speaking of playing it cool,’ said Eddie, ‘how’s it going with Dulcie and Liam?’

He only asked because Liam’s new car was hard to miss and this morning he had spotted it racing out of the club’s car park. Eddie hadn’t paid a great deal of attention but even he hadn’t been able to help noticing that the mane of blonde hair attached to the girl in the passenger seat didn’t belong to Dulcie.

This is it, thought Pru, willing herself to stay calm and unflustered. This is my chance to see if I can pull it off.

‘Actually, I saw Dulcie this morning. She rang Liza and me, asked us to go and see her. She’s really excited’ — eyes on the road, just sound normal, don’t blush, don’t blush — ‘you see, she’s just found out she’s pregnant.’

‘Good God.’ Eddie sounded horrified. ‘What — who’s — I mean, is it Liam’s?’

Pru was hating this already. She felt hot and unhappy. Fibbing might come naturally to some people but she wasn’t one of them.

Except Dulcie had made her promise.

Pretending she was an actress playing her part on a stage, Pru nodded. Actually, it helped.

‘Of course it’s Liam’s. She’s thrilled!’

‘Is Liam thrilled?’

‘He doesn’t know yet. She’s telling him tonight. So don’t say anything,’ Pru warned him,

‘because I shouldn’t have told you.’

Eddie looked at Pru and decided not to mention the blonde in Liam’s car. It was none of his business anyway. If Pru relayed this information to Dulcie — and it all ended in tears — he would only be left with the finger pointed accusingly at him.

Safer not to get involved, he thought. Hear no shenanigans, see no shenanigans, that was the way to deal with these kind of adventures.

Pru wondered unhappily why Dulcie couldn’t have left her out of it. She had lied. Successfully, too.

And it felt horrid.

On the back seat, as they sped down the dual carriageway towards Bristol, Arthur let out an impatient whine, the doggie equivalent of: ‘How long before we’re there?’

Pru may have felt terrible at deliberately deceiving Eddie, but she didn’t feel as terrible as Liam did when Dulcie broke the momentous news to him that night.

In addition, her hearing appeared to have been affected.

‘Christ. A baby! I don’t know if this is a good idea—’

‘Isn’t it the most fantastic news ever?’ Dulcie rattled on regardless, ignoring his less-than-thrilled expression. ‘Just think, a son! You’ll be able to teach him to play tennis!’

‘Dulcie ... sweetheart, sit down. Stop yakking for a minute.’ Liam shook his head; he looked pained. ‘The thing is, I’m not sure I’m ready to be a father.’

It was bound to come as a bit of a shock, thought Dulcie. She could understand that. She had to make allowances. When it began to sink in, the idea would grow on him. She just had to plant the right seeds.

‘Nobody’s ever sure they’re ready for children,’ she told Liam soothingly, ‘but once it’s happened, they wonder how they ever lived without them. Look at all your old tennis pals ...

John McEnroe, Pat Cash ... they’re devoted to their kids! And it makes men so attractive, too,’

she enthused. ‘Look at Sting, Simon Le Bon, Tom Cruise ...’

Dulcie had worked out the best way to play it, and she was right. Even in his shell-shocked state, Liam was drawn to the sexy-but-caring image. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad; he could do it Rod Stewart style, have umpteen kids by a succession of drop-dead-gorgeous girlfriends .. .

Then he thought of the astronomical child support and shuddered.

‘Look, Dulcie, we do need to think about this.’ He paused, not wanting to upset her, choosing his words with care. ‘Weneed to think about it seriously. There are other ... well, other options, you know.’

Dulcie, her green eyes huge, gazed at him like a wounded fawn. Her lower lip began to tremble.

‘How could you even think that?’

Her hands clutched her stomach. Liam instantly felt dreadful, like an axe murderer.

With a sigh, he supposed he was lucky this hadn’t happened before. He was almost thirty-five, had been firing on all cylinders since he was fifteen ... well, that was a pretty good innings.

Okay, so he’d been let down by a faulty condom, but they were said to be only ninety-seven per cent effective anyway, weren’t they? And he’d certainly used more than ninety-seven condoms in the past twenty years.

Anyway, looking on the bright side – at least now he knew he wasn’t infertile.

Liam decided to give in gracefully, he may as well make the best of it. He’d been caught out, but so what? It might not be what he wanted but then neither was it the end of the world.

He relaxed, sat back in his chair and smiled at Dulcie.

‘So how are you feeling?’

Dulcie hurled herself at him as joyously as Arthur had hurled himself earlier at Anita, the glorious golden retriever of his dreams.

‘Oh I knew you’d be thrilled,’ she cried, covering his face with kisses. ‘Imagine, our very own baby! Our own future Wimbledon champion—’

‘Do you feel okay?’ Liam studied her face. Dulcie certainly seemed to be glowing.

‘Sick.’ Belatedly she remembered her long list of symptoms. ‘But that’s normal. Hundreds of food cravings, which the doctor says I should just go along with. Oh, and I’m tired so I have to rest a lot, mustn’t do too much.’

‘Really?’ Liam looked alarmed.

‘Otherwise your ankles swell,’ Dulcie explained. ‘It can be dangerous.’

He glanced at her ankles, which looked okay to him, but Dulcie was reaching down, miming them blowing up like balloons and exploding. She pulled a face and shook her head.

‘That’s what my doctor said. Yuk, imagine. So no more tennis, which is a real shame. Still, you have to do as you’re told, don’t you?’ Patting her stomach, looking regretful but at the same time serene, Dulcie added caringly, ‘The baby comes first.’

Never having had any involvement with pregnant women before, Liam’s knowledge of the subject was largely limited to the old black and white movies he had watched on TV as a teenager. Happily for Dulcie, their attitude towards mothers to-be was pretty much on a par with hers.

Liam racked his brains for a second and came up with, ‘You’d better lie down. Shall I make you a cup of tea?’

Dulcie, who had watched a lot of the same films, happily did as she was told. This was more like it. Liam was going to turn into Cary Grant, she’d be Audrey Hepburn and together they would live happily ever after ...

‘Tea, brilliant.’ She sank back on to the sofa and put her feet up. ‘Actually, I’m just craving a bowl of peanut butter ice cream. There’s some in the freezer.’

When he had switched the kettle on, Liam came back into the sitting room with a spoon and the tub of ice cream. He frowned as he read the list of calories per 100 mls. and the percentages of sugar and fat.

‘This stuff’s lethal. You’ll end up the size of a sumo wrestler.’

‘No I won’t.’ Reaching up, Dulcie grabbed the tub and the spoon. Liam watched her expertly peel off the lid and balance it on one knee.